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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28152738">the act of never letting go</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/peradi/pseuds/peradi'>peradi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Jedi tradition, Other, din is a single dad, like pretty major spoilers, spoilers for the mandalorian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:15:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,117</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28152738</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/peradi/pseuds/peradi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>And Luke is the greatest Jedi living, the greatest Jedi that has ever lived, and yet he curls his fingers into the child’s robe to hide their trembling, because he is also Luke Skywalker, who once had a father.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p>Din Djarin stays.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Din Djarin &amp; Grogu | Baby Yoda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>944</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the act of never letting go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this show killed me</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Luke is in the elevator, the child nestled in the crook of his arm, when he hears it: </span>
  <em>
    <span>wait</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stops there, battlefield smoke still eddying about his ankles, the smell of burning electronics caught in his nose.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Wait, please.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The child’s Force-voice is just as clean and young as the child himself, sparkling like a fistful of rainwater.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What is it?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Luke answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Can Father come?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Luke does not understand. There’s no other creature like this one nearby – indeed, there’s no other creature like this in the galaxy.  There was Yoda, and now there is this one. Somewhere along the line, Yoda whelped a brood of Yodalings…and that is a haunting thought. For his own sanity, Luke chooses to believe that Yodas spontaneously generate after the rain, popping up like big-eared mushrooms. The alternative – the existence of some kind of Yoda-ess, a Yoda </span>
  <em>
    <span>breeding </span>
  </em>
  <span>– is too terrible to consider.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The child coos impatiently, and stretches out one hand, pushing against Luke’s cheek. Luke leans into the pressure, obliging, and opens his mind, and –</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(</span>
  <em>
    <span>He remembers a time before remembering, when all was swamp, and all was siblings, the smell of the forest floor, croak-groans of frogs, the branches rippling, breaking the sunlight into fractals. This is ancestry, this is the first fetal steps he took, wobbly on the moss, birth-effluvia clinging to his ears, and yes, there was not just him, there were more of them. More of them. He cannot recall their faces, but he knows that there were sisters and brothers, little and green as he, but something happened to them, and he does not know what --)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(Memories are clouds, floating about, dissipating as soon as he turns his gaze on them. He’s too young, really, to dwell on the smell of ash, thickening shadow, the sure and sudden knowledge that he is alone. There is a home, burning; a Temple, burning; all burning; all alone, the aching chasm of it a physical wound, a wound that cannot heal, he is alone and --)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> (</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hi kid, says the man, the man with a mirror-bright face and a heart as hot and red as the sun. Yes. He sees a featureless face and feels no fear, because he knows that he is safe, because here in his small green hands is a frog, food, and he is safe</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Here is the man who found him and did not leave. He is the man who took him away from the things that jabbed him with needles and shone lights in his eyes.</span>
  </em>
  <span>)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” says Luke. With the image comes a feeling of absolute, consuming love: warm as kaf, sweet as milk. A sense of being watched over, of being nurtured. “Oh,” Luke says, again, because the child is powerful in the Force but so very young, and does not know how to control his abilities, and so cannot limit the surge of emotion he is trying to communicate.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Father</span>
  </em>
  <span>, says the child again, and Luke’s breath catches, hard and jarring in his throat. The child, in the way of children everywhere, is guileless and says, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what about you, do you know what that means, do you have a Father?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And Luke is the greatest Jedi living, the greatest Jedi that has ever lived, and yet he curls his fingers into the child’s robe to hide their trembling, because he is also Luke Skywalker, who once had a father.</span>
</p><p><span>“Hm,” he says, the paragon of mysterious Jedi eloquence, and turns his eyes back to the party before him. They are all staring at him, the </span>Mandalorian<span>, the former imperial, the New Republic officer, and they represent but the tiniest fraction of the universe that is singing his name, calling for him. Even when he sleeps he hears the cries of Force-sensitives: </span><em><span>save me, train me, help me; I love you, damn you --</span></em></p><p>
  <span>And yet they do not matter. The universe does not matter, not in that moment, with the child in his arms. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Father! </span>
  </em>
  <span>This time it is not a question; it is an imperative, and the Force crackles with lightning, with hunger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> A child, calling for his parent: the most sacrosanct of orders. And so what else can Luke do but walk back towards the man in bright beskar, and offer him the child?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” he says. “Hold him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, you said – “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. Hold him. “</span>
</p><p><span>The child holds out his arms, and the </span>Mandalorian <span>holds out his, and the pair are reunited. At once, the Force around them shifts. Stills. The child’s power is still a great, slavering animal -- but for the time, it is at rest.</span></p><p>
  <span>“My father was a Jedi,” Luke says, addressing the ensemble in general, “and as such he was taken from his mother when he was a child.” He chews the inside of his mouth, searching for the words. More often than not, he can play the part of Luke the Great and Terrible, the saviour of the Jedi, the patricide and the hero -- it’s rare now to find himself stumbling over sentences, as he once did in front of Ben Kenobi. But sometimes he remembers that he is twenty seven, and there is still much he does not know. “It was seen as the right thing to do,” he continues. “The Force is a great ocean, and it is easy to lose yourself in it, if you are not guided.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(He almost says </span>
  <em>
    <span>taught to swim -- </span>
  </em>
  <span>then realises that this is a gods-awful metaphor, and amputates it.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Public speaking was always Leia’s purview, not his.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are still staring at him: awestruck. Confused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries again. “The way to the Dark Side is hate, and fear. Once you fear, you learn to hate. Once you hate, you start to drown. That is what happens to many great Jedi. To many great people. The way to </span>
  <em>
    <span>avoid</span>
  </em>
  <span> fear is to distance oneself from emotion, from attachment. To transcend them.”</span>
</p><p><span>“That’s nonsense,” says the </span>Mandalorian<span>. There’s an intake of breath -- possibly from Bo-Katan, who is staring at Luke like she has read every story written about him, and then some. “I mean -- sorry. But people fear. Doesn’t make them weak. Doesn’t make them </span><em><span>evil</span></em><span>.”</span></p><p>
  <span>He has the most wonderfully expressive face. He’s never learned to cage his emotions behind a mask -- why should he? He has a helmet for that. This Mandlorian’s face tells Luke precisely what he thinks of him -- that is to say, not much at all. Nothing shreds the splendour of legend like the actuality of losing a child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could well be right. That is, after all, what the old Jedi council believed. They took children from their parents. They took my father from his mother, and when he saw her again it was too late -- for her, and for him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His audience remains both entranced, and thoroughly baffled. </span>
</p><p><span>Apart from the </span>Mandalorian<span>. </span></p><p>
  <span>“If you’re going to take him,” says the man, nostrils flaring, face tightening, “then just </span>
  <em>
    <span>take him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Please don’t stand here and - and monologue. It’s -- it’s hard enough to -- to -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>say goodbye</span>
  </em>
  <span>--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet he does not hand over the child; he cradles him closer. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Father</span>
  </em>
  <span>, says the child, to Luke who had a father for around three shining moments before losing him forever. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Father</span>
  </em>
  <span>, says the child, to the son of a slave, a slave whose mother watched him go with two strangers, knowing that she would never see her son again -- </span>
</p><p><span>“Come with us,” says Luke. The child trills with joy, and the </span>Mandalorian’s <span>eyes widen. </span></p><p>
  <span>“What?” he says, just as Bo-Katan behind him says --</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The old Jedi took children from their parents,” says Luke, “but the old Jedi are dead, and I am remaking them as best I can. The child has lost his family twice over; it would be cruel beyond measure to force him to lose them again. What is your name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My -- name. My name -- it’s Din. Din Djarin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Din. Wonderful. If you wish, you are more than welcome to come with me to Yavin IV.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I -- uh --” Din flounders, shifting the child to his other hip, pushing his helmet back on. His voice, through the modulator, sounds stronger. “I don’t think I would be welcome there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever crimes you committed as a bounty hunter will be pardoned,” says Luke, with a wave of his hand. “I can see your heart; I know that there is no true darkness in you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would rather you did not look at my heart,” says Din. “There are things I have done that I am not proud of. The way I made my living --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When was the last time you collected a bounty?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just before the kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And since then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well -- I’ve been busy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doing what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looking after the kid -- or, uh -- there was a village that I had to help -- or -- “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice trails off. Luke quirks an eyebrow. “So, you’re a father who changed career paths for his son. Most admirable. Many do not. You’ll come with us. The child will need you there to keep him centred and calm, and you will not be a prisoner; you can come and go as you please. But something tells me that you may need a little respite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke used to find it incredibly vexing when Ben Kenobi or Yoda would just smile, confident in that they knew what would happen next; but now he understands, because he knows </span>
  <em>
    <span>precisely</span>
  </em>
  <span> how Din and his child will react. He tastes it in the air, like the greening of the desert after a storm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He beckons. “My ship will be rather cramped with you aboard, but I fancy that if we squeeze up a bit we can all fit. I understand that you are taking the Moff to the New Republic, for trial?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The marshal -- Cara -- nods. “Of course.” He’s never fought alongside her personally, but he knows her tattoos, and he knows her kind, and he offers her a crisp salute. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, soldier,” he says. She smiles, and returns the salute. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” says Din, “before I go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kisses the top of the child’s head, pressing him back into Luke’s arms, before removing a weapon from his belt. Luke has only ever seen pictures of one, but he still recognises the Darksaber, and inhales softly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What a man your father is, </span>
  </em>
  <span> he says to the child.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>great</em>
  </b>
  <b>, </b>
  <span>says the child. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And my name is Grogu.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry. Grogu. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Din places the Darksaber on the floor. “I don’t want this,” he says. “You can keep it.” </span>
</p><p><span>“It doesn’t work like that,” says Bo-Katan, her mouth pulled tight, her eyes are flat, cold, and dead, like she has already decided what must be done. Luke’s priority for now is the child in his arms, but he is becoming increasingly aware of the tangled mess that he is inheriting, of the chaos that this </span>Mandalorian <span>trails behind him. </span></p><p>
  <span>The Force is always hardest on those she loves best, after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” says Din. “I’m saying it does. And I’m going. So you can leave it on the ship, if you want, but I’m not touching it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bo-Katan’s gaze flickers from Din to Luke. Assessing. Measuring. Luke does not do anything as crass as touch his lightsabre, only smile amiably at her. “Traditions only have the power we give them,” he tells her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Easy for you to say that,” she says. “There are no Jedi to question your legitimacy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another sharp intake of breath. This time it was Cara. The tension in the room is thickening, and Luke recognises his cue to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are quite correct. But one day there will be, and when one of my students doubts me, or questions tradition, I hope that I will be able to offer them a worthy answer. Goodbye, all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doors swish closed. The ship sails on, through the dark velvet night, and a single X Wing leaps into hyperspace, carrying a cargo more valuable than any beskar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As they travel on through the white blur of hyperspace, Luke makes conversation as best he can. Grogu sits on his father’s knee, and tries to grab at the controls, and Din does not venture anything apart from a response to a direct question. Luke can smell his fear. Not fear for himself, but fear for his child. Fear born of love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s an emotion common to parents. Leia and Han reek of it. That gives him an idea for something that might just engage his silent passenger -- after all, who does not like talking about their little ones?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” he says, “Grogu’s probably about four or five in human years. My sister has a son that age. Maybe they’d get on…”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p> </p>
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